


Blood On The Docks

by CynicalLion



Category: BioShock 1 & 2 (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Assault, Choking, Crying, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Psychological Torture, Sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:54:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27485353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CynicalLion/pseuds/CynicalLion
Summary: When criminal kingpin Frank Fontaine hears there's a new little fish on his docks talking shit, he decides to go teach the kid what it means to swim with sharks.Or: Jack Ryan, the son of billionaire oil tycoon Andrew Ryan, decides to dip his toes into the criminal underworld and ends up biting off more than he's ready to chew when he runs his mouth about the wrong man. Frank Fontaine, said wrong man, proceeds to put Jack in his place as violently as possible.(Either way: Surface AU)
Relationships: Implied Frank Fontaine/Reggie
Kudos: 6





	Blood On The Docks

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write Fathoms of Depravity or Living Free right now for some reason, so I decided to try banging out something fast and this is what I got. Poor Jack lol

Frank Fontaine was currently sitting in his office underneath The Clanger, the bar he owned just off one of the busiest ports in New York. He was currently looking over some business proposals for a few of his front businesses but mostly for the illegal underground stuff he ran out of those fronts. It seemed like every day some new wannabe smuggler was begging for permission to run goods out of the docks he unofficially owned only to then be mysteriously busted by the feds when they decided the cut he demanded for such a privilege was too much.

Just as Fontaine was signing a correspondence letter to one such new smuggler and seriously considering getting a few dozen copies of the letter made since they always ended up looking almost identical, Reggie, Fontaine's right-hand man and just about the only person on the planet he trusted, came into his office. Reggie was one of very few people who had permission to come barging in whenever he wanted, anyone else would've gotten shot on the spot for not knocking. Nowhere lethal, just in the leg, a warning and a reminder, nothing more.

When Reggie closed the door behind him, Fontaine set his pen down. This was serious business, then. "Not too busy, are ya, boss?" Reggie asked, coming up to Fontaine's desk and sparing the papers there a glance before looking to his boss's face.

"Not when ya got your serious face on, I ain't." Fontaine replied, motioning at one of the chairs across from his and pouring Reggie a drink as he sat down. The other took it with a grateful raise of the glass and took a swig. "What's got your tail in a twist?" Fontaine asked, topping off his own glass and leaning back in his chair. "Rookie fed pokin' his nose where it don't belong?"

"You ever heard'a Andrew Ryan?" Reggie asked after shaking his head at Fontaine's guess.

"Sure I have. Met 'im once or twice. Why?" Fontaine replied, curiosity piqued. What a posh fat-cat like Andrew Fuckity Ryan could've possibly done to get Reggie so riled up had to be good. Well, technically bad, but Fontaine reveled in a little chaos, so it'd likely be entertaining even if it ended up also being a massive headache, whatever it was.

"Didja know he's got a kid?" Reggie went on, only comfortable beating so hard around the bush because Fontaine looked so interested. He'd learned over the years of knowing Frank and all of his various personas that sometimes he enjoyed a little foreplay before a bomb-drop and this was gonna be a doozy, so he wasn't exactly excited to get to the meat of the matter anyway.

"Yeah? Met him too. John or somethin', right?" Fontaine replied, eyes narrowing a bit. He was usually pretty good at figuring out what news Reggie had for him based on his preamble, but he had no idea where this was going.

"Jack." Reggie corrected, finally running out of potatoes and having to get to said meat. "See, Ryan's kid ain't really a kid no more, and he's got it in his head that his dear ol' dad's name makes him untouchable." He started, watching as Fontaine's eyes got darker as he seemed to be guessing what Reggie could be getting at and clearly didn't like the scenarios he was thinking up. "Apparently he's been down on your docks talkin' a whole lotta shit about how you won't be able to touch him or the shit he's sellin' outta his daddy's boat."

Chuckling darkly, Fontaine finished off his drink and set the glass down calmly. "Which dock?"

"I mean, I'm still here, aren't I?" Jack said smugly, ass planted firmly in a chair and feet propped up on the small table he was doing business at in the cabin of one of his father's boats. "Clearly that Fontaine schmuck isn't everything he's cracked up to be."

"Clearly." Fontaine said calmly, shooting a glare at the jackass sitting across from Jack and watching as he fled. Jack himself had gone pale and he slowly lowered his feet from the table. It was night now and the port was empty with the exception of the rats running their illegal wares, so the only people around who might hear the smug little shit scream wouldn't actually hear shit. "Jack Ryan?" Fontaine questioned pleasantly, even knowing he had the right kid. Mid-twenties, messy brown hair, clearly wealthy with an ugly rich-shit fashion sense to match.

"Frank Fontaine." Jack practically breathed, swallowing near audibly and watching as Fontaine calmly sat across from him. "You-- this-this is a private vessel, you can't--" He started, getting some of his nerve back but losing it again when Fontaine laughed lowly, a dangerously calm smile on his face.

"These are my docks, kid, I can do whatever the fuck I want." Fontaine replied, brown eyes meeting Jack's green ones. "For example, if I wanna kick the shit outta some little loudmouth rich prick tryin' to peddle shit on _my_ fuckin' docks _without_ my permission, who the fuck ya think is gonna stop me?"

Swallowing hard again, Jack tried to get up some of his lost nerve and stood, leaning a bit over the table to glare at Fontaine. "How about the cops?" He challenged, clenching his teeth when Fontaine laughed again, louder this time.

"Oh, kid, you **really** don't know who you're fuckin' with!" He laughed, suddenly standing as well and knocking the table out of his way. Jack stumbled as the perch his hands had been resting on was knocked away and Fontaine took the opportunity to grab the back of his head and bring his knee up into the kid's face. He then shoved Jack back and watched him fall onto his ass, gripping his bleeding nose and crying. It was a wonder the kid hadn't screamed.

"What the fuck!?" Jack yelled, his voice nasally thanks to his likely broken nose.

"See, I own the police like I own these docks." Fontaine said casually, returning to his chair and sweeping idly at some invisible dirt on his jacket. "Now, much as I've enjoyed gabbin' with you so far, I think it's time you learned some respect, so here's how this is gonna go. You're gonna come over here and use that shit-talkin' little mouth'a yours to clean the dock scum off'a my shoes, or I'm gonna make you swallow a few of those pretty little rich-shit teeth."

Hesitating, Jack slowly sat up and looked down at his bloody hands. He sniffed up some of the blood that had slowed from pouring from his nose to simply trickling and glared at Fontaine. When Fontaine sighed in disappointment and started to get up again, Jack's heart leapt and he quickly scrambled forward. He hesitated a bit more but then started to lower his head, his momentum getting halted when Fontaine suddenly tangled a large hand in the back of his hair and jerked his head upwards.

"Clean your face off first, kid. If I wanted your blood on my shoes, I'd just kick the shit outta you." Fontaine said coldly, releasing Jack's hair and raising a challenging eyebrow at him when Jack shot him a glare.

Sighing, Jack looked away, knowing he really needed to play along and be good if he wanted to get out of this with no more than a broken nose but hating it immensely. He gingerly scrubbed at his face with the already bloody sleeves of his sweater and Fontaine could tell once he got some of the blood out of the way that he had indeed broken his nose. Eventually Jack lowered his shaking hands and looked at Fontaine, refusing to meet his eyes. "There. Better?" He asked petulantly, apparently not quite ready to take his own advice of playing along and being good.

Snickering, Fontaine slid one foot forward in lieu of a response and watched with a smug grin as Jack lowered his head again and started to lick the grime from the worn leather. "Y'know, when I first heard that Andrew Ryan's kid was runnin' his mouth on _my_ docks, I could hardly believe it." He said conversationally, resting one arm along the back of his chair and grinning wolfishly when Jack looked up at him in surprise. "Yeah, kid, I know your dad." Fontaine said, tapping the tip of his shoe against Jack's chin and grinning all the more as Jack grudgingly went back to work, cringing periodically and pulling such a fucking face.

"I thought surely Andy wouldn't be so _disrespectful_ as to send someone in like that. I stay off his terf, he stays off mine, we have an understanding that way." Fontaine carried on, tapping Jack's chin patiently whenever he got too distracted by what he was saying and stopped licking his shoe clean. "So I figured you must be doin' this without your dear old dad knowin'. So then I was tryin' to figure out why. Were you tryin' to prove somethin' to Andy or to yourself?" Fontaine asked, tilting his head at Jack, his grin taking on a cruel note around the corners as Jack's eyes found his.

"Then I figured it out. I figure you're doin' this to prove you're actually worth somethin' on your own. Worth more than your name and the weight it carries which is fuckin' funny considerin' you been throwin' your dad's name around since you started this little shit operation'a yours." Fontaine finished, leaning forward a bit so the overhead light cast a shadow on his face. "And now look atcha. Not even worth the weight'a your daddy's name. Not worth more than the scum your lickin' off my shoe."

By that point, Fontaine was expecting alot. Tears namely, anger certainly. What he wasn't expecting, was for Jack to rear back and spit in his face. "Fuck you." Jack snarled, shaking in anger and watching with defiant eyes as Fontaine slowly leaned back and wiped the spit from his cheek.

"Cute." Fontaine said lowly, standing up and whistling. When Reggie came into the cabin from the docks where he'd been keeping watch, Jack laughed despite his mounting fear.

"What, can't beat the shit out of a little nothing like me yourself? Gotta call in back-up?" He taunted, watching Fontaine take his jacket off and hand it over to his goon.

"Hold this, Reg." Fontaine murmured, starting to cuff his sleeves and motioning with his head for Reggie to leave the boat again. Reggie shook his head at Jack before leaving, an unsympathetic look on his face as he did so. Once his sleeves were cuffed, Fontaine walked up to Jack, catching one of his ankles as he started to scramble to his feet and dragging him closer. Jack tried kicking him, but Fontaine caught his other foot and yanked him right up to him. He then released both of Jack's legs only to grab the collar of the ugly sweater the kid was wearing in one hand and back-hand him with the other, the rings Fontaine was wearing cutting up the kid's face nicely from the force of the slap.

The kid fell to the side like a sack of potatoes and Fontaine was once again mildly impressed that he didn't scream. He was crying, sure, but he took a hit like a fucking champ. As Jack started to try and get up again, Fontaine kicked him hard in the ribs and then the stomach when he didn't curl in on himself fast enough. Jack made a breathless sound and clutched his stomach, but still didn't scream. Fontaine assumed his shaking was from the pain or the crying, but then Jack managed to look up at him and the older man realized the little shit was laughing.

"Is that really the best you've got? Big, scary mobster and you barely hit worse than my posh cunt father." Jack bit out, glaring defiantly at Fontaine despite the bruises and blood all over his face.

Too stunned at first to react, Fontaine eventually composed himself enough to laugh. "It's like you got a death wish, kid." He breathed, kicking Jack's shoulder to force him onto his back and stepping over the younger man. Fontaine lowered himself onto Jack's chest, snatching his hands as Jack tried to fight him and tucking his arms under his knees so he could hold them down and keep his own hands free. "I mean, do you _really_ think your dad would care enough to investigate further if I forced a bottle'a whiskey down your throat and drowned you just off the docks?" He asked, wrapping his hands around Jack's throat and starting to squeeze. When Jack tried to speak, he instantly squeezed hard enough to block the kid's intake of air and kept the pressure up.

"See, cuz I don't think he would." Fontaine said, keeping his tone even as he watched Jack's face. "I think getting a little disappointment like you purged from his bloodline would be a fuckin' relief." He laughed as Jack flinched at his words and struggled despite his quickly depleting air. "Hell, he might even send me a thank you card. I mean, look atcha!" Fontaine said, loosening his grip once Jack's face started to turn blue and watching as the younger man gulped down air. "So full'a piss n' vinegar but fuckin' useless when the cards are down and it's time to count the chips."

When Jack simply hiccupped on a sob, Fontaine shifted to release his hands and gave his throat an almost playful squeeze. "Go on, tough guy, prove me wrong. I'm barely worse than your posh cunt father, right? You can fight me off, can'tcha? Man twice your age, no fuckin' problem." He squeezed harder when Jack just laid there and grinned as the kid's survival instincts seemed to kick on and he scrambled for Fontaine's hands, trying to pry them off of his abused neck. "That's it, struggle for me, Jacky." Fontaine breathed, leaning forward as he choked Jack to slowly lick up some of the blood on his cheek.

Pulling away, Fontaine looked at Jack's comically wide eyes and chuckled darkly, loosening his grip on the kid's throat again. "Got somethin' to say now, tough guy?" He taunted, grinning triumphantly at the way Jack couldn't meet his gaze and how hard his hands were shaking against his own wrists.

"N-no." Jack croaked, his voice rough from his abused throat. "I'm sorry. Please, I--" Choking on his words as Fontaine tightened his grip again, Jack sobbed with his last full breath and weakly gripped the older man's wrists but didn't bother pulling. He was crying again and shaking even harder than before, suddenly not so sure that Fontaine wasn't going to just rough him up and send him on his way, suddenly afraid that he might actually kill him and that no one would even care.

As if he could hear Jack's thoughts, Fontaine leaned closer to the younger man's ear. "Could just choke the life outta ya right now. Not even bother with the liquor, with makin' it look like an accident." He purred, his voice low and seductive as he took immense pleasure in punishing the uppity little brat under him. "How much money you think it'd take to make everyone look the other way? Bet it wouldn't be too much. I already own the police and I still don't think your dad would care. Who's that leave, Jacky? Know anyone who might actually care about your sorry ass enough to come for me if I just ended you right now?" Fontaine pulled back again and loosened his grip on Jack's neck, letting out a sigh of pleasure as Jack sobbed with each trembling breath.

"Please." He hiccupped, trembling all over and squeezing Fontaine's wrists pleadingly. "Please, I-I'm sorry, alright? I-I get it, okay?"

"Get what, Jacky?" Fontaine asked, tilting his head at the broken boy beneath him. "How do I know for sure you ain't just sayin' that to save your skin if you don't elaborate for me?"

Hiccupping on another sob, Jack took in a shaking breath to try and make his voice come out without trembling. "You're the boss, I-I'm nothing." He stuttered, failing despite his best efforts and letting out a desperate almost-wail when Fontaine flexed his fingers. "Y-you could make me d-disappear, no one w-would miss me, please! Please, I-I get it!" Jack babbled desperately, finally looking at Fontaine and flinching at the hungry look in his eyes.

"Well, I guess you're not as dumb as I thought when I first heard about you." Fontaine said lowly, releasing Jack's neck and cupping one of his cheeks in order to hold his face still so he could snap his nose back into place. This time Jack yelped and he gripped his nose as a fresh trickle of blood started to come from it. Smacking Jack lightly on the cheek twice, Fontaine got off the shaking man and dusted his knees off a bit before moving a few steps away from him and fishing a cigarette from his pants.

After lighting up and taking a slow drag, Fontaine looked back down at the broken man now curled up across from him. "You still wanna run dirty on my docks, kid, you put in a formal request like everyone else. 'Til then, I ever see you on my docks again, I'll make sure no one ever finds your body, you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Jack mumbled, refusing to look at Fontaine again but being sure to speak loud enough for him to hear.

"Atta boy." Fontaine praised lightly, leaving Jack to cry in peace and heading back to The Clanger with Reggie so he could get cleaned up and blow off the steam beating the shit out of Jack had built up in him.

**Author's Note:**

> The original idea for this was much less bloody and much more sexual so I'll probably write another story with a similar premise to get that one out into the world too now that my bloodlust has been sated XD


End file.
